Pier. Daggers—daggers are much better!
Jaff. Ha!
Pier. Daggers.
Jaff. But where are they?
Pier. Oh, a thousand
May be disposed in honest hands in Venice.
Pier. But yet a heart half wronged
As thine has been would find the meaning, Jaffier.
Jaff. A thousand daggers, all in honest hands!
And have not I a friend will stick one here?
Pier. Yes, if I thought thou wert not to be cherished
To a nobler purpose, I would be that friend.
But thou hast better friends; friends whom thy wrongs
Have made thy friends; friends worthy to be called so.
I'll trust thee with a secret: there are spirits
This hour at work. But as thou art a man
Whom I have picked and chosen from the world,
Swear that thou wilt be true to what I utter;
And when I've told thee that which only gods,
And men like gods, are privy to, then swear
No chance or change shall wrest it from thy bosom.
Jaff. When thou wouldst bind me, is there need of oaths?—
Green-sickness girls lose maidenheads with such counters—
For thou'rt so near my heart that thou mayst see
Its bottom, sound its strength and firmness to thee:
Is coward, fool, or villain, in my face?
If I seem none of these, I dare believe
Thou wouldst not use me in a little cause,
For I am fit for honour's toughest task,
Nor ever yet found fooling was my province;
And for a villanous inglorious enterprise,
I know thy heart so well, I dare lay mine
Before thee: set it to what point thou wilt.